My death, volume 3

Doom is a wonderful word. It has a certain weight to it that is difficult to come by in the English language. I loved the word doom even after I realised that my own was pending. This is not the story of how I died, but it is the beginning of the story of how I died.

On the days leading up to my death, Satan used to visit me in my sleep. Or to be more accurate, I used to visit him. Satan doesn't live in Hell. He lives in a log cabin in Alaska with his cat, Beelzebub. (Bubbles for short.) He explained to me that, although Hell is vast and spans many dimensions, none of it is particularly pleasant, which is why he doesn't live there. He explained to me lots about the world we live in. Things that normal mortals are not supposed to know. He smiled when he said he didn't mind telling me these things, on account that I wouldn't be around long enough for it to matter.

It was a nice place, simple furniture, a seemingly never ending pot of tea and an unhealthy supply of biscuits and cake. (the dark lord has a bit of a sweet tooth, you know.)

I visited several time and enjoyed our little chats, until the last day I saw him. I regret my line of questioning on that day, but that's life. Or not, as the case was.

I asked him why he lives in Alaska. He said that officially he lives in Monaco, he has a house there for tax reasons but rarely stays in it. He likes Alaska because it is cold.

I asked him if it is his fault there are so many wars and so many people die. He said no.

I asked if I would go to Hell and he just laughed.

I asked what I could do to stop myself dying. He said "You have no control."

I said "Do you?" He said "Maybe."

I said "Fuck you, you big red motherfucker, you don't control shit do you?" He said "With regard to you? No. Your path has already been set, the wheels are in motion. You will die. So put a fucking happy face on and try to make it pleasant."

I left the place slightly disgruntled. I trudged out into the snow. When I turned back, the Devil was standing in his doorway, the warm glow of the fireplace lit the interior of the log cabin, casting his shadow onto the snow. He smiled and waved. I turned back towards the darkness and continued forward until there was no light at all. When there was nothing left to see, I closed my eyes and laid down in the snow, a ritual I had performed many times before. I could feel the biting cold slipping away.

When I opened my eyes again I was in bed. The spectre of Death was standing at the foot of the bed. Not a usual turn of events but, for some reason, I wasn't surprised to see him.

"Is this it?" I asked. "Do I die in my sleep?"

"Oh God no! We have a far more spectacular annihilation lined up for you, dear boy!"

"What are you doing here, then?" I asked.

"Just visiting. I heard you were a bit upset when you left Satan's and I thought you might need cheering up before your big day. Would you like to see where you will be buried?"

I could tell I was not going to go back to sleep tonight and, although you could argue that seeing your final resting place is kind of creepy, I thought it was nice of Death to try and cheer me up.

"Ok." I said, "How do we get to the cemetery though?"

"Easy! We just jump in front of a train!" Death laughed, "Sorry, I jest. Take my hand."

"Won't that kill me?"

"Normally yes but your death is pre-arranged so it won't effect you."

I took his hand and saw my bedroom melt away to reveal a beautiful moonlit sky with a smattering of bright stars puncturing the darkness. As my eyes adjusted to the level of light, I could make out tombstones surrounded by grass that grew longer the closer it got to the large, tooth like slabs. The trademark of a lazy cemetery caretaker doing a half-arsed job of mowing the lawn. I looked around but I didn't recognise the place. "Are we still in Eastbourne?" I asked. "Yep! Dead center of town!" Death roared with laughter, as he propped himself up on the nearest stone. I couldn't read the name on the stone, but I was sure that its owner, located some six feet south of said stone, didn't mind that the spectre of death was now using their last resting place marker as a leaning post. In fact, I doubted the person cared for very much at all. Dying tends to take a lot of the fight out of people. Death noticed I hadn't laughed and turned his hood to face me, "You see what I did there? Dead center of... never mind."

Death pushed himself off of the tombstone and moved towards the church. It was small by church standards yet still very elegant in a medieval sort of way. The massive wooden door filled the front wall of the church looming above us in the most unwelcoming manner for a place that is supposed to be a haven for all. A cold wind whipped around me, I hugged myself rubbing some warmth back into my arms as I followed Death toward the steps before the enormous door.

Death sat down on the steps of the Church and pulled a sandwich out of his robe. I couldn't see his face but every time he moved the sandwich towards his hooded head, it came away smaller. It was safe to assume Death was eating the sandwich. " I usually carry a 'box' lunch!" He chuckled, "Are you hungry? I can probably 'dig' something out!"

I went and sat on the step next to Death. "Do you know what is going to happen to me?"

"Yep, your going to die!"

"Do you think people will miss me?

"Nope, ain't no fucker going to miss you, Rowdy."

"Will I die alone?"

"Technically yes."

"Technically?"

"Well, I will be there. Wouldn't miss it for the world!"

"That's very comforting, Death."

"Glad I could help!"

Death laughed and pushed me off the step and I fell down back into my bed. A blinding light shone into my eyes, making the back of my brain ache. I tried to block the light with my hand as my eyes adjusted to see it was the sun blasting through the gap in my curtains.

It was morning.

It was time for me to get up.

I didn't know it then, but I had three days left to live.

***All the crap you see written here is Kelvin's opinion and not that of his associates, race team or marketing partners.***